More than three little words

Tell them why you love them.

This is a September 2020 post from my defunct WordPress blog. I decided to post it again here today on my late friend Susan’s birthday.

My Chicago friend Susan died this week. She and her husband Charlie lived next door to us when I was a teenager and they were in their late twenties. We became friends after I, at fifteen, started taking guitar lessons from Charlie.

Susan often invited me over when Charlie had a gig with his band, and we'd cook or watch a movie. As a barely supervised only child, I needed an adult, and Susan, a social worker/therapist, was generous with her time. I remember sitting down on her porch with her when I hadn't seen her in a few days, and she said, "Okay. Tell me everything." It was the best invitation. Sometimes I say that to someone I'm close to, and I always think of Susan. She took interest in me as a person long before I was an adult, and this helped me believe my life was interesting.

Susan was able to reflect my personality positively back to me, and she did it all the time. I have tried to do this for others too, and I learned it from her. She saw how I had befriended families on our block since my mother had died, and had participated in a high-school musical that wasn't even at my high school. She said, "You've always been so good at getting your needs met."

She said, "You think you're shy, but I don't think you are. I see you as quite outgoing."

These comments told me that my urge to talk to safe people was healthy and didn't make me a pest; and her saying I was good at it, and outgoing, cued me to keep being myself and to let people see who I was.

Susan had cancer for the past few years. We exchanged a few cards and texts, and she surprised me with a phone call last Christmas morning, 2019. In each exchange, we shared favorite memories. I recalled how she had gone out spontaneously to get me an ice cream cake for my sixteenth birthday—she’d seen me sitting on my porch by myself, and though I hadn’t needed a fuss over my birthday, she said we had to celebrate it.

I told her I love the memories of cooking with her for their parties. She told me on Christmas last year that she always saw me as "somehow both vivacious and peaceful to be with" as a young person. Until our last conversation she was showing me myself as a lovable person. I'm so glad I had the chance reflect her good actions back to her, by describing the ways she had helped me. I miss her.

Knowing we can lose loved ones any time, it's often said "tell them you love them." But I want more than three little words. I want to share specific positive reflections of each other. Tell the person something she surely doesn't know: your favorite memories together and why they are so good.